I grew up in a 3 bedroom apartment in the Bronx. My pa, Sambo Lucowski was a traveling salesman who sold sexy outfits to strippers with velcro zippers that opened with ease. Sambo was a workaholic, I think I saw him 5 or 6 times in my life.
My mother fixed in Harlem flophouses, selling her pussy for fixes, what a waste, a beautiful lady who loved to fix. She died of an overdose during my sophomore year at The Bronx River School.
I was raised by a Mexican nanny, Rosa who had hairy legs and underarms, a Mexican thing, uncommon in the USA, except for hippies.
Rosa was a hoot, she was a runaway train, smarter than most.
My advisor at The Bronx River School, Mr Dick was born with a bone up his ass that couldn’t be surgically removed. Dick signed me up for math and science courses, awful shit.
In his office, Dick, the dick-off, ignored me, looking down, shuffling through paperwork, refusing to look me in the eye. I was street smart and the aggregate asshole wearing a cheap suitj with a bleached toupee on his head, braced on his head by special glue, non-allergenic stuff, and the kind.
That evening in our apartment Rosa baked stuffed Mexican peppers. Her sister Margarita taught Spanish at The Bronx River School.
While Rosa and I watched M*A*S*H in the living room after supper, she calls her sister the Spanish teacher, and tells her to straighten Dick out.
Dick was real nice from then on out saying,
Henry, we have an exploratory program at Bronx River for wayward honor students you’re suited for,
gee thanks, Mr Dick, that’s square of you.
Free, I organize the next semester, I loved Modern American Literature and sculpture. I spent most my time in my dorm room, listening to rock music and getting high together.
I had a great stereo system in my room, a Macintosh amp, and Technics SK-1200.
Margarita bullied and abused Dick, he liked taking it, rough sex, douching, spraying organic cologne between your legs.
My Senior year I graduated in the bottom 10% of my class, I felt fucked over, deserving more for showing up.
During the lunch hour, we’d smoke weed under the bleachers of the football and field hockey field, the home of the Bronx River Red Skins.
I rarely showed at school, it was an afterthought for me.
Rosa loved to smoke weed, baking angel food cakes loaded with the shit.
By the early 70s, I attended Fiskel Community College, majoring in Modern American Literature, and creative writing.
I took the subway to Bleeker Street, then walked to Fiskel Community College, making it to class on time. The courses were taught by freaks who'd get loaded in the teacher's lounge.
I had brought a couple stray cats home to catch rats— Rosa and I named them Bingo Star, and Paulo.
Rosa was a freak of nature, the Latin earth mama, and I wanted to fuck her in the worst way.
One day after school while showering— Rosa jumped into the shower with me, kneeling and grabbing my balls, then licking and blowing me until I cummed in her mouth.
Later that night, we were in the living room watching bullfighting live from Mexico City on UHF TV.
Rosa was laying on the sofa half-naked with her legs spread, he bush was thick, matted, like coal.
She was 32 and I was 17.
I’d bring hippy girls or hookers to the apartment and at Rosa's behest, we'd have group sex.
Then in 1973, I think, there was a knock on the door, a burly Mexican man pushes his way in, picks me up by the collar asking,
were’s Rosa?
She’s in the bathroom doing her toenails, I say,
The Mexican Hulk knocks the loo door down and Rosa shoots him with a Derringer pistol.
The first responders and the cops show in no time, questioning me, and booking Rosa.
The Hulk survived, moving to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, where he and Rosa bought a square little wooden house with a giant mango tree in the backyard.
Everybody felt healthy eating mango pudding and paste.
Rosa taught me that feelin free was a one-way street, forward.
And that, relaxing, at home in your own body, sitting in a comfortable chair, lighting a Cuban cigar, leading it burn but smoking it.
These times are the best times in history, and it only gets better kiddo.
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